


mostly void, partially stars

by writingdice



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: M/M, Welcome to Night Vale AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2018-12-06
Packaged: 2019-09-13 04:31:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16885665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingdice/pseuds/writingdice
Summary: Stan works on Gravity Falls’ Community Radio. He’s the voice of Gravity Falls. (Welcome to Night Vale AU).





	1. REALITY

The night shifts, receding back onto its own darkness, making way for what we know as day. But the void of the night sky lingers unseen. Silently watching, always present and judging of our every move.

**Welcome to Gravity Falls.**

* * *

 

Good morning, listeners. Today is a memorable day. Stanford The Scientist, aka my twin brother has made yet another astonishing discovery of this weird little town we both now live in. Apparently, multiple realities are overlapping and changing our physical plane right now as I speak.

“Multiple realities and dimensions co-exist in Gravity Falls”, Stanford said while his fellow scientist and assistant, Fiddleford McGucket, fumbled about showing graphics and pointing at equations written with white chalk on a board.

“We are all from different dimensions, different worlds that are the same and different at the same time. We were brought here for a reason”, he continued on that nerdy voice of his.

He will continue to report on the matter as his investigation develops.

* * *

And now, traffic. 

Sometimes life is not fair. Sometimes you are forced to struggle. 

Sometimes 17 year olds are kicked out of their homes and they have to live in their cars. Relying on their small set of skills, barely surviving the week and almost tempted to eat from trashcans. And sometimes the only solution they can find to keeping themselves alive is to commit illegal acts, because being 17 and alone on the streets is not a good time. 

You are alone. Alone and desperate for human interaction. You’d do anything to feel less alone and abandoned… 

All exits are looking clear. Can’t say the same about our collective lives though. There are no visible exits there.

This has been traffic.

* * *

A word from our sponsors. 

“Tired of having so much to do and barely have the time to finish it all? Exhausted of working for hours only for somebody else to take the credit? Well, have you tried to use an axe? I have never heard of a problem that cannot be solved by an axe. Come on down and buy some of ours! Corduroy Lumberjack Family Co.! We will cut down anything! We won’t care if its alive and screaming while we do so!”

* * *

On an emergency press conference held by our Mayor Befufftlefumpter, he has declared that he’s giving up on death for a while.

“Y'know, I really like living and I’m in no hurry to die”, said the Mayor while his elderly, beady eyes looked out at the press attendees.

“So I thought, why not put it in hold for a decade or so? Surely it can’t be bad for my health!”, he declared with a laugh. Then he waved nonchalant at an empty spot on the wall and continued laughing alone.

“C'mon, don’t be like that! I’ll die someday, I promise!”, he continued to talk to nobody before eating in reverse a small piece of pie that he had taken out of his coat and disapppearing in a cloud of smoke. No follow up questions were asked.

* * *

The Sherrif’s Secret Police would like to remind you that there are many things out there that could eat you and your loved ones.

If you notice a sudden disappearance on your family members, it would be better if you forget about whoever is missing. Because they are probably dead. Accept their fate and move on. It will save you a lot of grief.

There are many things in your life that can be solved by not caring about them.

* * *

Listeners, I’d like to adress something that has been coming up the last few weeks.

I know I was not born on this town and for some reason this has become a controversial topic on our community. Some shout that I can’t be The Voice of Gravity Falls due to the place where I happened to be brought to this world, while others shout back that the prophecies never lie, that it was bound to happen. 

I appreciate the people who come into my defense, but I’d like to give in my own two cents. Not that I’m offering money to any of you. Don’t come asking me for money, I’ve got none.

I was born in New Jersey, in a small town called Glass Shard Beach. I grew up there. I have good memories from summers spent on hot white sand, building a boat that I hoped would take me far away, and drinking lukewarm soda while watching the sunset paint the sky in pink and purple. I used to think of this place as my home, sometimes I still think so.

But that place ain’t my home… Not anymore.

The Stanley that lives there is young and naive; caught up in fantazies of traveling the world, too focused on the hope of a future with someone that he could not see what that… that someone had never really wanted to be with him…

Uh… My point is: I’m not leaving. I’m making an official warning to all the people who would like to remove me from my job here at Community Radio. They will have to take me out with fire because I ain’t going without a fight. This is my home now.

I ain’t going anywhere. I’ve got nowhere else to go.

* * *

A new update on my nerdy brother, Stanford The Scientist, and his investigation on the multiple realities that co-exist in our little town. 

A transdimensional entity has made contact with him through a scientific device Ford invented. He says that it spoke in a nasal and annoying voice, but that the things it had to say were of great interest and scientific value.

“The place were you live is very important. My reality and yours are closer than you think”, it said in a casual voice.

“And so are you, Stanford Pines. You’ll change your whole world with your investigations and inventions”, it continued stroking Ford’s ego for about 5 minutes until it said a quick bye, leaving no trace of its existence behind.

What an asshole, huh?

* * *

Intern Toby just handed me a mic. I don’t know why. Mine’s working just fine. 

Hey! Hey, Toby! Take this mic outta here, I don’t need it!

This guy, listeners. I really have no idea why he’s still alive. Normally interns, ahem,  _go away_  early on their internship. But  _this guy_. This guy refuses to go away. No matter how many times I’ve sent him out to make reports on news, he always comes back. Hope something turns out soon so I don’t have to see or hear him ever again.

Oh, and by the way, to the family of Intern Toby: I’m sorry you have to deal with him. My heart goes out to you.

* * *

Here’s some Community Health Tips.

Life’s been bad to you lately? Life got you down? Eat a pie! Eat a pie. Just eat it. I promise you, it’s good. I promise you, it will all be good.

Everything can be numbed down with food and good TV, trust me. Everything.

* * *

Update on the multiple realities investigation lead by my brother, Stanford.

Apparently, he and Fiddleford have created a machine that should be able to stabilize the co-existing dimensions around us, thus making them visible.

Stanford reports that it should work  _just fine_  and that he just needs…

Oh no… Oh… No. Stanford don’t you  _dare_.

 _Fucking Christ_. I’m gonna have to leave you, dear listeners. Ford got his ass on trouble again. Don’t worry though, I leave you with…  **[the weather](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DB8x1RaA9PrY&t=YzhlZjJkMjk2ZjJmMjgyNDllYWI4ZDFhZjMwZGNlN2I5YzI2NDQ5MywzeklsZFZzMQ%3D%3D&b=t%3AE4f-4uUfH5xaeaHSbgJuWg&p=https%3A%2F%2Fwritingdice.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F142437532004%2Fmostly-void-partially-stars&m=1).**

* * *

Welcome back, listeners.

I just saved Stanford, my twin brother, from what could have been his and his assistant’s possible death.

The device… well, it did not work as good as Ford hoped it would. Apparently, it needed a huge amount of both metaphysical and nuclear energy, and Fiddleford had made a miscalculation that would have made it blow up. And the resulting explosion would have erased them both from existence.

So what I did is that I ran all the way to his Shack and unplugged the damn thing just in time to prevent the destruction it would have brought.

I mean, sure, unplugging it did not work as good as I had thought it would. It  _did_  blow up, but like, just a little and not as horribly and catastrophic as it would have had it not been turned off. I know these things because a shaky and grateful Fiddleford explained it to me.

Stanford was very mad at me. He scolded me and lectured me about lab security. He insisted that he had  _everything_  under control and that even if he hadn’t I shouldn’t have done what I did. 

Stanford said that he is a scientist, and a scientist is always fine. I tried to tell him that I had just wanted to make sure that he wouldn’t get… oh gee, I dunno, erased from our reality? But he just wouldn’t have it.

He dismissed me with a wave and pointed towards the exit of his lab. Before going I saw him writing down on his journal. You know? The red books he decorated himself and that he thinks makes him look cool? Well, I saw him writing down on one of them. 

Something about wanting to replicate the device. Something about not repeating the same mistakes. Something about meeting someone who had talked to him through another device.

He didn’t even thank me for saving him.

…Listeners, let me tell you a thing about the ocean. It is inmense and terrifying. That sums it up.

There is a hole in there that leads towards a place filled with the same void in the sky. People would dive head first, hoping to find themselves at the bottom of it. Not caring about the consequences or what they were leaving behind.

But there was only darkness, and so it remained.

This hole is now known as The Mariana’s Trench, and as we all know it is cursed. The Mariana’s Trench is filled with deep ocean nightmares, with every thought you’ve had late at night that made you shiver in fear as you stared deeply into the darkness of your room and prayed that they will not come true, that your fears will stay in your mind.

But they are not. They are out there in some form. They live inside The Mariana’s Trench, waiting for you. Someday they’ll find you.

Take it from me, dear listeners. There are things in this world that are not worth discovering, that are better left unexplained. There are many, many things in this world that are just not worth the effort. Many, many things…

**Goodnight, Gravity Falls. Goodnight…**

* * *

This chapter’s weather can be bought[ here](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fitunes.apple.com%2Fus%2Falbum%2Frudderless-original-motion%2Fid919779330&t=MTg2MjM2MzljYjc4NDdkMmJlM2YwNjA3OTE5MDI4YTlkMzlmNWMzZCwzeklsZFZzMQ%3D%3D&b=t%3AE4f-4uUfH5xaeaHSbgJuWg&p=https%3A%2F%2Fwritingdice.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F142437532004%2Fmostly-void-partially-stars&m=1).

Today’s proverb: I’ve got no spiders to hold me down. To make me fret or make me frown. There are no spiders in me… There may be some spiders on you, though.


	2. A Story About You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The radio reports on the usual stuff: news, traffic, political opinions and corrections to political opinions. But today there is time for a story. A story about you.

“This is a story about you”, said the rough voice from the man on the radio. And you were pleased, because you always wanted to hear about yourself on the radio.

**Welcome to Gravity Falls.**

* * *

This is a story about you. You live in a small house, out near the Car Lot, next to Old Abuelita’s house. Ocasionally, she’ll invite you in to eat cookies she just baked but you always politely decline her invitations. Not because she’s not a good neighbor or a bad cook, no. It’s just that she’s always talking about the angels that live in her home, and it visibly makes you uncomfortable to hear about them.

Everyone knows angels aren’t real, anyway.

You didn’t always live in Gravity Falls. You lived in a normal town. You had a friend, and then a girlfriend, and then a fiánce. And one day you you didn’t have her.

And then an old friend from your college years who had stumbled upon a little strange town called and asked if you could help him around.

Having nothing left you accepted.

And now, you live in Gravity Falls. You work as a lab assistant and help your friend in his investigations on the town. Sometimes the work is exhausting or dangerous, more often than not, it’s both: exhausting  _and_  dangerous. But you don’t mind too much. You actually don’t mind at all.

He’s not the most talkative person and he can be a bit self-centered at times, you still remembered that he did not notice that you do not wear your wedding ring anymore; but he is not a bad friend, he just gets too absorbed in his own world.

Each morning you follow the same ritual you’ve followed for your whole life. You get up, have a quick shower, brush your teeth and hair, get dressed, take your car keys and drive out onto whatever destination you are needed in that early.

Sometimes your friend has already made coffee and is waiting with a mug ready for you. Sometimes he does not; either because he spent the whole night up writing about his findings and passed out from exhaustion at some point, or because he’s already waiting for you out on the woods.

Today is one of those days.

You are driving towards the Shack where your friend lives. You are listening to the radio when you notice that it is talking about you. 

Shocked, you stop the car before running over a squirrel. The three legged creature glares at you as it moves away from you and your car. You stare at the road as the man on the radio keeps talking about you.

“Well, I’ll be damned”, you whisper as the man repeats your words a few seconds later after you said them.

You decide that its too early to be worrying about it and continue driving. You try to be confident, as it were not bothering you, but it does. Oh, yes. It does.

* * *

You finally reach your destination and park your car. As you take out the keys from the ignition the radio is turned off, and you breathe a little bit more easily now that you can’t hear someone describing your every move.

You get off the car and walk towards the front door before remembering what you hear on the radio a few minutes ago.

“The radio said that he would be in the woods…”, you whisper as you enter said woods and walk around aimlessly looking for your friend and boss.

“Fascinating”, you hear someone whisper. You look behind a bush and find the person you were looking for.

“Good morning!” he says but does not look at you. He’s crouching near a cluster of orange glowing mushrooms and sketching them on a red journal.

“Good morning”, you answer and sit down near him.

You stay in silence for 10 long minutes until you decide to tell him what’s bothering you.

“Something weird happened to me this morning”, you say and he humms in acknowledgement. That is not something unusual for you to say so he doesn’t pay much attention to you.

“I was driving towards the Shack when — “

“I’d really hope you stopped calling my home that. That’s just a stupid nickname my brother gave it and I really don’t like it”, he interrumpted you, pausing in his sketching for a second and then continuing.

“Well, you gotta admit that’s its catchy and easy to say”, you chuckle nervously as he frowns at you. You clear your throat.

“Anyway, as I was sayin’. I was driving, listening to the radio when I noticed that…”, you falter in your speech, still not believing what you heard that morning.

“Noticed what?”, he is focused on you now. You managed to get his curiosity.

“Well, I…”, you stutter and clear your throat again.

“The radio was talking about me”

You both stare at each other for a few seconds.

“…So?”, he asks, unsure of what you mean.

“I-I mean, it’s! It’s… It’s like describing  **everything**  I do minutes after I do it and it even says what I’m  **thinking**! Honestly, when I accepted this job and ya told me the town was weird I expected weird in a different way!”, you inhale a deep breath.

“C-could you maybe… I-I dunno…”, you mutter breaking eye contact with him and look at the glowing mushrooms. You note that they are now a deep shade of red.

“Could you maybe talk with  _him_? Get him to stop talking about me?”, you ask, still not looking at your old friend and boss. What you also don’t see is the man on the radio rolling his eyes and smirking, as if he were to stop simply because your old friend and boss came to talk to him.

“I’m sorry”, he says in answer to your question, deciding to keep on sketching the now blue mushrooms.

“Fascinating”, you hear him mumble as you walk away from him and back to the Shack.

* * *

Afternoon arrives and you decide to turn on the radio once again too see if its still talking about you. The old radio on the Shack has a static-y noise coming out of it when you turn it on, and soon the voice of the man floats around the silence and fills it with words. It is still talking about you.

Your cold sweat slides from your brow onto your neck and you shiver as these sensations come to you and the radio describes them.

You look around, deciding to ignore as best as you can.

“It’s just this town being weird”, you think as you organize your boss desk. You hum and bring some order to the chaos before you, methodically arranging things, and then you notice  _them_.

Blueprints. Blueprints for something so bizarre you do a double check to try and understand if what you’re seeing is actually what you saw and your brain interpreted.

“Blueprints to build an oak door?”, you scratch your head in confusion and look at them again and again.

“Why would he want to build this?”, you don’t say outloud in fear that your friend may find you looking through something that was most certainly not for you to see. You leave the blueprints where you found them.

You work on the projects you were supposed to be working on when he finally comes back to the Shack. As he enters the lab, his footsteps falter as he hears the radio. With a pronounciated frown and anger he turns it off and glares at you.

“I know, I know. You don’t like to hear the radio”,  you keep to weld an enormous bizarre looking metal structure without minding his slightly dramatic and exaggerated aggravation.

“I’m sorry. I just… Sometimes it’s nice to hear him talk, y’know?”, you admit sheepishly, and a small blush covers your cheeks after. Given the circumstances, was it weird that you like the man on the radio? You don’t see him but the man on the radio has a smug and flattered grin on his face.

You don’t see or hear your boss angrily rolling his eyes and muttering something under his breath, “ _That’s because you don’t know him like I do_ ”. But, oh, you don’t know  _him_ like he knows you both. You don’t.

“In any case”, he says and clears his throat. Crossing his arms behind his back he starts to pace around the room with a thoughtful expression on his face.

“There’s something I haven’t shown you”, he clears his throat again in a manner you have come to realize as a nervous tick. He shifts his gaze from you to the ceiling and you know now for sure that this is some serious business.

“Uh huh?”, you say unsure on what he will say.

“I, uh, well…”, unceremoniously he takes out something from his coat and shows it to you.

And there they are again. The Blueprints.

“An Oak Door?”, you ask nonchalant and confused, trying really hard to hide your nervous guilt. He eyes you with suspicion but shrugs it off and says nothing.

“I know what it looks like, but believe me.  _This isn’t an ordinary Oak Door_ ”

“Well, I was kinda expecting that since this town tends to be like that, y’know?” you say, interrumpting him on his dramatic rant and sit more comfortably.  _This should be interesting_ , you think as he takes a piece of chalk and starts to write on a board that had not been there before.

* * *

You are working on the Oak Door.

“For starters, this is an  _Old_  Oak Door”, he had explained while showing you the diagrams and calculations he had written on the board. You waved him off and glared at him so he’d get on with it.

“This is a multidimensional portal that will allow us to travel through the multiverse”, you paraphrased in your head as he ranted on and on about its properties and the posibilites it could bring. God, what a nerd.

You look over your work and find, surprisingly, that it has been finished. There’s an Old Oak Door looming right infront of you.

“It’s just this gosh darn heck of a town being weird, that’s all”, you whisper to yourself in less family friendly words.

You clean up your work space, put away your tools and grab your stuff before walking towards the lab exit.

You’re about to step outside when you hear it. The creek of an old door being opened. With dread on the pit of your stomach, you turn around and find that the Old Oak Door is, indeed, open.

“It’s just this gosh darn heck of a town being weird, that’s all”, you tell yourself again. Only louder this time.

You sigh in defeat and go to close the Old Oak Door. You don’t want to, but you do it anyway.

As you walk near it, you feel the hairs on your neck stand up and electricty course through your body. You are shaking, although you cannot explain why. You’re about to close it for good when a claw comes out of it and graps firmly your left hand. You yelp and look up to see…

A beast with one eye, staring at you with a smile on its face that shows off its sharp teeth. It whispers something to you and you hear laughter around you. It suddenly retreats its claw from your hand, leaving behind a bleeding wound.

“See you  _real_  soon, pal”, it says in an annoying, nasal voice.

You hear approaching footsteps behind you.

“Sorry about leaving, that phone call was really important. At least I can see the frame is coming along nicely”, you hear your friend and boss say but you barely register the words.

“T-the frame?”, you stutter and stare at what’s infront of you. Only to find that there is, indeed, just the wooden frame of a door.

You scream.

* * *

Your heart is about to explode in your ribcage, it is going faster than your thoughts. Your vision is blurry as you run through the woods. You hear breathing behind you and you turn screaming at the nothingness that meets you.

“Stop following me! Stop following me!”, you yell as you keep on moving. There really is nothing there, but your mind cannot grasp the concept of being alone, of not being chased.

You run until you see the Community Radio building and press your still bleeding hand on the bloodstone doors. The building lets you in and you finally feel safe inside the ancient structure. 

You stand shocked in the lobby. A weird looking intern points you to a hall on the left and you go that way even though you don’t know where it leads to. 

As you walk through the empty hallways you start to hear faintly a familiar and comforting voice. You walk faster and reach a room with a bright red sign on top of it that reads “RECORDING, PLEASE DO NOT DISTURB”.

Despite what the sign said you desperately pound on the door of the sound booth. You are shaking and about to start sobbing. You can hear the voice of the man coming from the other side of the door, still describing everything you are doing.

You collapse and take your head between your hands as he says something about… **[the weather](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DUpegOeE5KcM&t=ZmNlMzllOTI5MDJjZjg4NDdiODQyYzA5NzllY2MyZjZkYmVhYjFlZixWVFd1azhXZQ%3D%3D&b=t%3AE4f-4uUfH5xaeaHSbgJuWg&p=https%3A%2F%2Fwritingdice.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F142874646744%2Fmostly-void-partially-stars&m=1).**

* * *

You sit, silent. You stare, silent. You feel many things but cannot express a single one of them.

The man on the radio is no longer on the radio, he’s right infront of you and still talking about you. You no longer fear that, you find comfort on the fact that someone else can see you, that you exist, that you are still alive.

You form a triangle with your fingers and hold them over your left eye. You can’t stop smiling. The man looks at you, seeking to help you, to calm you. You do not accept his stretched out hand. Instead you reach up…

You reach up…

…This has been a story. The radio moves on to the usual stuff:  news, traffic, political opinions and corrections to political opinions. But there was a day where there was time for a story. A story about you. And you were pleased, because you always wanted to hear about yourself on the radio.

**Goodnight, Gravity Falls. Goodnight.**

* * *

This chapter’s weather can be bought  **[here.](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fantonyleft.bandcamp.com%2Ftrack%2Focean&t=ZWQxYWZmMjBhY2FkYzY4MWExNWM1NTk3ZTZjYTBhMjFlZGQyM2Q5MixWVFd1azhXZQ%3D%3D&b=t%3AE4f-4uUfH5xaeaHSbgJuWg&p=https%3A%2F%2Fwritingdice.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F142874646744%2Fmostly-void-partially-stars&m=1) **Today’s proverb: If I can’t bake the cake and eat it too, then why bake the cake at all?


	3. Heads Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stanley talks about memories and the ultimate disappointment that is life. There’s a new resident on the Community Radio building. Stanford makes a discovery on his multidimensional portal.

They do not hear your pleading. They do not hear your excuses. They do not hear your screaming. They kinda hear your complaints, would you stop your whining already?

**Welcome to Gravity Falls.**

* * *

Hello, listeners. Today I have an unusual announcement. I mean, most of my announcements are unusual, but this one’s takes the cake.

Remember Stanford The Scientist, aka my twin brother? Picture him in your mind. Good, that’s good. Now, remember his assistant and fellow scientist Fiddleford McGucket. Great. You’re very good at picturing people on your mind, did you know that?

This morning my brother came up to the station and told me to tell you all that Fiddleford had misteriously disappeared after a work accident that involved both screaming and fleeing on Fids part. He said that if anyone ever found Fiddleford, you should take him to the Shack immediately.

I asked Ford what kind work accident could have possibly made his co-worker run away while screaming but he walked away from me without answering me. 

Seems like he lost both his co-worker and his manners. Jeez.

Anyway… I may sort of have already found Fiddleford. Or well, he found me. Well, it’s more like he came into the station a couple of days ago and won’t leave the building. I don’t really mind. I actually don’t mind at all.

I haven’t heard Station Management  growl or hiss these days so… I don’t think they mind either.

I guess we’ve got a new intern? I’m not sure how people become interns here. I just know that sometimes I come to work and there’s a new intern that, ahem,  _goes away_  a couple of days later in their internship. Not Toby though. I’ve come to terms with the fact that I’m stuck with  _that guy_  forever.

But I guess he is an intern given the fact that he brought me coffee a couple of minutes ago. He also brought me a dead rat. On his mouth. He looked really proud of it so I didn’t have the heart to reject the present. There’s a dead rat on my desk now. Fids wouldn’t leave until I patted his head and told him he did a good job.

Heh, weird little fella. I rather like this new intern, folks. So do me a favor, would ya? Remember Stanford The Scientist, aka my twin brother? Remember what I said about him trying to find Fiddleford? Well, forget all that. I think it’s rather obvious that he doesn’t want to be found, so don’t tell my brother where he is.

Do you remember where he is? No? Good. That’s good. Don’t ever try to remember whatever it was that I just asked you to forget.

* * *

And now traffic.

Waking up in a cold sweat. Craving for something but not knowing what. Desperation and pure agony at trying to think what it could be. Screaming at the feeling of not knowing many things. Laughter. But not yours. 

Who’s laughing?

…There’s an accident on Route 800. Taking alternate roads is strongly advised.

* * *

Listeners. I’ve been thinking and remembering a lot lately.

And I remember lots of places and faces. I remember a beach full of white and soft sand. I remember a boat. I remember having dreams of adventure and fame. I remember having hope, feeling loved by my brother. I remember my father’s voice full of disaproval and disappointment, but I can’t remember his face… I can’t remember my mother’s face.

I remember my brother being excited about a college. I remember ruining his chances at entering that school. I remember his anger and being tossed out like old garbage. I remember the streets and sleeping on my car. I remember always being called a failure, a loser.

I remember riding on a bike on an endless highway. Carefree and enjoying the moment. Hugging my ex-boyfriend’s torso and pressing my face against his back. The feeling and smell of his leather jacket intoxicating me better than any whiskey.

I wonder where Jimmy is right now…

* * *

And now, a word from our sponsors.

Running is useless. They are all around you. You can’t see them but you can imagine their sharp teeth. They touch your ankles with their claws and smile as you whimper in terror. They know who you are. They know all your deep, dark fears. They’ve come to get you.

Disneyland. Where dreams come true.

* * *

Vodka can be made with the following ingredients: rain water, three smooth rocks, a bunch of different plastic items, lemon juice, acid,and all your remaining hopes in the human race; also, tears and for taste add blood.

Place all the ingredients in a bucket and stir with a wooden replica of your own hand. Think about all the things you wish you’ve done and the things that you actually did. Think about all the people you’ve hurt because you loved them, think about all the people you hurt because you didn’t love them. Think about your life choices and stay up all night thinking about what could have been and never was.

Wait from 2 to 3 days before the contents in the bucket turn into an alcoholic beverage with which you can try and forget all your shame and regret. Wait from 10 to 20 years for the burn to consume you and the crave to grow stronger every day. Wait from 5 to 8 years for your loved ones to give up on you, turning their back to you. Wait for a slow and lonely death.

The hurt was too much, Rick. The hurt has always been too much and hurting yourself more won’t help.

This has been the Children’s Science Fact Corner.

* * *

A memo from my brother Stanford.

“If anyone has seen Fiddleford McGucket, please take him back to The Shack. It’s of uptmost importance that he comes back… There are an infinite number of science matters that we must discuss together.”

Well, dear listeners as our town’s motto goes: Forget everything and say nothing.

* * *

And now, back to my depressive memories.

I once scrapped my knee while running away from bullies. My brother gave me a band-aid and kissed my tear stained cheeks. Trying to calm me down before coming back home. My pops did not accept weepy sissies under his roof.

I once scrapped my knuckles while punching those same bullies in the face. My brother hidding a blackeye, trying to reign in his own tears and whimpers. I didn’t have a bandaid so I kissed the bruise and hugged him tight. Soothing him because I loved him and seeing him in pain was worse than my own physical discomfort.

I once kissed a person. And that kiss was never forgotten. But that kiss remains where it belongs to. The past. 

We were looking at the sunset…

Uh, hmph. I once had to chew my way outta a car’s trunk. In the moment it had been something terrifying and painful, but now it’s kinda an interesting story that I tell when I’m in far too much emotional pain to deal with it. You see, I owed this guy… Uh — Fidds? What are you doing, buddy?

Huh. Listeners, Fidds is currently standing infront of Station Management’s door. I can hear Station Management growling and making other more unpleasant sounds I’m not willing to describe.

Fidds is —Oh no! Fid — Listeners… Fidds has opened the door to Station’s Management office and has entered!

I need to go and.. I don’t know, try to save more than just one piece of him! 

I leave you with…  **[the](http://writingdice.tumblr.com/private/143774139714/tumblr_o6l1lsuRwn1uh4wew) [weather](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DKVB37_828gY&t=ODY1MmNlNTQzYWNjZjIyOGYyMjM5ZTg3MzU3ZDUzZDdmMzhiODI5ZSxjYmpWaVNtQg%3D%3D&b=t%3AE4f-4uUfH5xaeaHSbgJuWg&p=https%3A%2F%2Fwritingdice.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F143817059979%2Fmostly-void-partially-stars&m=1).**

* * *

Welcome back, listeners.

I, uh… I guess I managed to save Fidds? I’m not entirely sure. 

He still has all his limbs attached to his torso and he seems to respond more to verbal, visual and physical estimuli. Fidds doesn’t look like he wants to play fetch with the very expensive radio equipment anymore.

Which is a shame, really. That was fun. I rather liked playing fetch with Fidds…

Intern Toby is trying to interview him.

..Hey. Hey, Toby! Stop botherin’ him and do something useful. Fuck. I don’t know, just do it! Bring me more coffee or somethin’. Fucking christ. This  _guy_.

So uh, apparently Fidds is leaving the building. He’s muttering something under his breath. I can’t hear him.

…Listeners, I really wanted Fidds to stay here.

Do you ever stay silent standing in your kitchen, pouring a glass of… something? Water, milk, juice; in the end whatever you’re drinking doesn’t matter.

You’re alone on your kitchen drinking. Staring at your surroundings, thinking…  _Is this really my life? Is this really all that I will ever be?_  

You’re alone, griping tightly a glass of something on your hand. The taste of whatever it was already leaving your mouth as you keep on thinking.

 _Why am I such a disappointment?_ , you think bitterly as you stare out onto the night and its oddly comforting darkness.  _Why was I born the failure child?_ , you think with envy clouding your mind.

 _It’s not fair…_ , you think about all the oportunities open and available for your sibling but that were never an option for you. But it’s not fair for them either. It’s not fair of you to assume or to think that they do not deserve to have these options. You know this and yet the bitter taste in the back of your throat won’t let you accept that.

You would like to say that you work just as hard as them. But that’s not true. You never think in complete truths. Lying comes to you as easily as opening your eyes and contemplate the ceiling, deciding whether the day is worth it or not.

You look at yourself in the mirror and understand that you were just never enough, that you would have never been enough… You can always look away and pretend that you are not what you are. You can run away and forget about everything. Drive away! Never look back to the past where you were left to fend off for yourself! Never think again about the people who hurt you. Never try and fix your bonds with them… They won’t listen. They won’t care.

But here’s the thing… you can run and you can hide and pretend that everything is good… But you can only do it for so long until one day you wake up and realize that your life has been more running than living.

And so, dear listeners, you must fight. You must punch and kick and spit blood out on the pavement. Scream as much as you want to! Face all situations head on, ready to bring out your knuckledusters with a sneer and a broken, bruised nose that spells out: “ _I won’t back down, so you better back off_ ”.

You are a fighter. You are the fight. And you can punch your way out of every problem. I’ve been doing it for all my life… Be brave. Be a failure. Be disappointing and flawed. Be! Be who you are and be that person as much as you can. Reality could unravel any moment, our planet could be destroyed by so many factors out there in the horrifying void of space. So why spend any second, or any other measure of time for that matter, being something and someone who you are not?

Exist as who you are, no matter the consequences. No matter if you are a disappointment. I am a failure reaching out towards all failures out there. We are real. We are still living. Struggling, frustrated; yes! But alive and still kickin’ ass like there’s no tomorrow.

…Stay tuned next for a laugh, a scream, and electricity coursing through a living body.

**Goodnight, Gravity Falls. Goodnight…**

* * *

This chapter’s weather has more than one surprise and it can be bought [here](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fharrisonstorm.bandcamp.com%2Ftrack%2Fbroken-feather&t=YTkyN2MyYTdlYzM1OGNlYzgyZDBhZGRmOTZmZTRhNzNiNmM4ODI4ZSxjYmpWaVNtQg%3D%3D&b=t%3AE4f-4uUfH5xaeaHSbgJuWg&p=https%3A%2F%2Fwritingdice.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F143817059979%2Fmostly-void-partially-stars&m=1).

Today’s proverb:  Here’s what I know about life. It will stop one day.


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